


00Q Fic Requests

by BigBloodyShip



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBloodyShip/pseuds/BigBloodyShip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Putting all my one-off responses to 00Q fic requests/prompt fills here! If you've got a request, feel free to leave it in the comments!</p><p>II. Prompt: Zombie invasion at MI6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have other chaptered fics I'm supposed to be working on, but...as I mentioned in the summary, these are my responses to fic requests, and I'm happy to take more (if you'd like, you can leave a request in the comments!), although I can't promise a good job. As these are one-off type things, please excuse any rushed/shoddily constructed exposition. By the way, I'm total shit at writing anything smutty which is why I've glossed over the actual deed for this prompt and will probably do the same for any others that might call for it. (I also don't do alpha/omega verse fics because I'm not very familiar with the mechanics)

**Prompt (for Josie): AU where James is on a mission to intercept a flash drive that has important computer code or virus on it. Q works for the cyber-terrorist who owned the flash drive and has to pretend to be a rent boy to seduce James and get it back.**

* * *

The mission had gone surprisingly smoothly. In fact, the interception had been laughably easy. They’d had a total novice delivering the goods - some fat, sweaty, nervous man who clearly was only doing this because he owed some sort of debt. James had incapacitated him and taken the flash drive in less than two minutes.

Intel had told them that the man would be travelling from England to France by ferry to deliver the flash drive, and James was waiting for him at the port. All he had to do was walk up to the man - who the quartermaster identified for him - and knock him out cold with one well-placed blow. The flash drive had been in his back pocket, confirming to James that this man was a complete moron. In other words, merely a pawn, and no-one of importance in the grand scheme of things.

The most difficult part of the mission, in fact, had been hauling the rather heavy unconscious man into a nearby broom cupboard, lest his body draw unwanted attention.

How funny, James had thought, as he turned the flash drive in his hands, that something so small could contain something so destructive. Lines and lines of code meant to disable firewalls and penetrate security...and potentially bring down banks all over the world, plunging countries into financial chaos. The flash drive was brought back to HQ, of course, but more information was needed. The contents of the drive had been encrypted, and nobody in Q-Branch had been able crack the code. So James’ job now was to capture someone who did know and extract that information by any means necessary.

According to intel, the cyberterrorist ring behind all of this was based in England and run by a certain Mr Ross, who, true to the criminal kingpin cliche, owned several nightclubs throughout Europe - both the continent and the UK - that also served as gathering points for the members of his criminal network.

James was to go straight for the prize turkey - Mr Ross himself.

He’d been sighted frequenting one of his French establishments, so James had returned to France to finish the job, flash drive and a high-performance laptop in tow. Tanner set him up in a hotel right across from the nightclub, and James locked the flash drive, laptop, and a spare gun in the room’s provided safebox before donning a bespoke suit and heading out.

Like most nightclubs owned by high-profile criminal organisations, Mr Ross’ club appeared very sophisticated, with tasteful furnishings and attractive lighting. But under that veneer, James knew, festered all manners of corruption and moral decay.

He seated himself at the bar and ordered a vodka martini, scanning the room as he waited for the drink. He’d studied Mr Ross’ file extensively, even if there wasn’t much information on it to go off of. He knew what the man looked like, at least, and that was the important bit.

An attractive woman in a strapless gown smiled at him as she passed, and James nodded in return, letting his eyes linger on her for a moment. Maybe if there was time after he’d completed his task…

His attention was diverted, however, to a familiar figure standing near one of the back exits, He recognised the face from the photos in MI6’s files almost immediately - Mr Ross. And Mr Ross was looking right back at him.

James took a sip of his drink, and raised his glass in the man’s direction before turning away as if he was just another patron thanking the owner of the establishment. A man like Mr Ross must be rather well-known on the premises. He took another sip before stealing a second glance at the man - he was tall, with a cunning, angular face and a greasy smile, dressed in a sharp suit. He leaned over and said something to a stocky man in black who was standing at his side - a bodyguard, maybe? Whatever he said, though, James was not within earshot to hear.

At that moment, Mr Ross turned away from the man James assumed to be his bodyguard and made his way through the exit. James realised he’d lose track of the man, and not wanting to drag his mission on any longer than necessary, stood up to follow him.

“Leaving so soon? And you’ve not even finished your drink.”

James turned back towards the bar at the sound of the silk-smooth, very _English_ voice addressing him. A bespectacled boy with a head of wild, inky curls was perched on the seat next to the one James had just been sitting in, a small, mischievous smile on his youthful face. James hadn’t even noticed his arrival. It took a person of rare quality to sneak up on him.

“What’s that got to do with you?” James asked, his eyes flickering over the boy’s body. He was quite svelte, built gracefully like a dancer, although his overall appearance, James decided, was more like that of a poet.

“Mr Ross thought you’d like me with your drink.”

“What?” James said rather obtusely, and then the realisation dawned upon him.

_Oh. Rent boy._

“Appreciate the gesture, but I don’t have any cash,” he muttered, looking back towards the door. Both Mr Ross and his bodyguard had disappeared. Damn.

“Not to worry. I come with compliments of the house,” the rent boy assured him, “Free of charge. Little gift from Mr Ross. He’ll be back again tomorrow night, you can talk with him then, if you want.”

James almost laughed at how casually the kid referred to himself like he was a piece of merchandise. Bred to believe it, no doubt, possibly from a young age. Slowly, he sat back down in his seat, and was able to have a better look at his face. His complexion appeared almost luminous under the glow of the light, and James found his gaze drifting to a set of ruby red lips.

“I suppose I should be flattered,” he remarked, picking his drink back up, “Why the generosity?”

“Oh, Mr Ross recognises a fellow Englishman when he sees one,” the rent boy answered, “He misses home terribly, you see. I suppose that’s why he has me around.”

“You know him well?”

“Not really. I only met him a few months ago. He’s got lots of money, specifically asked for me over and over again, and then...he bought me up entirely. Flat rate. No more nightly fees.” He laughed, and James was rather shocked at his forwardness. For heaven’s sake, he barely even looked legal.

“What’s your name?”

“You can call me Q. And what do I call you, Mr…?”

Q. Funny name. The quartermaster, old Major Boothroyd, came to mind - and James quickly dispelled the thought before any disturbing mental images could be produced.

“Bond,” he replied and Q gave him a coquettish smile, his dark lashes fluttering briefly behind his spectacles.

“Well, Mr Bond, I’m yours for free tonight,” he said, his fingers resting lightly on James’ knee, his touch feather-light, “And we can do anything you like.”

James scoffed.

“How old are you, anyway?”

“Old enough,” Q answered innocently, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a manner that was almost unconsciously flirtatious. James swore to himself. Damn, this rent boy knew how to drive a man mad. “Anyway, if you’re not interested, you’d best let me know soon. There’s another gentleman who’s requested my company...an older man. Even older than you, shockingly enough.”

His taunt was a challenge, and James rose to it immediately. He had plenty of time to get closer to Mr Ross, if he was going to be back again tomorrow, as Q had said. Anyway, he’d never been one to pass up a chance for carnal indulgences, and the prospect of Q in his bed sounded far better than sticking around at the nightclub.

“Now, who said I wasn’t interested?”

Q gave him a saccharine smile. “I trust you’ve got a hotel room nearby, or…?”

James nodded and stood up. Q slid gracefully off his seat, taking hold of James’ arm. He sidled up close, letting his hips brush against James’. By God, the boy was an expert.

“Well, then! Lead the way, Mr Bond.”

* * *

 

“Spared no expense, I see,” Q mused as they entered James’ hotel room, “Fancy room, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is,” James replied, crossing the room to draw the curtains shut. When he turned back around, Q was sitting at the edge of the king-sized bed, unbuttoning his shirt. James supposed he wanted to just do his job and leave. And that was what James was looking for, anyway - just a quick shag to kill some time.

He watched as Q shrugged his shirt off, and James took in an eyeful of pretty ivory flesh. Aware that he was being watched, Q rose and turned so his back was to James, stepping out of his trousers and slipping off his pants at a deliberately languid pace.

James drank in the sight of his naked body, slender and elegant, his pale flesh a striking contrast with the dark colour scheme of the room’s furnishings. His eyes moved appreciatively from his graceful neck down the line of his spine, to the slight curve of his hips and pert little arse.

Wordlessly, James walked towards the boy, who stood unabashedly before him in his nudity. _Experienced, then,_ James supposed as reached out to let a hand rest on the back of Q’s neck.

“Been with lots of men, have you?” he murmured next to Q’s ear, fingers toying with the curls at the boy’s nape, “I’ll bet you have.”

“Oh, yes,” Q answered casually, reaching up to begin undoing James’ shirt buttons, “Lots and lots. All sorts.” The shirt fell away, and his wicked little fingers went to work on the Double-0’s belt next, “We shall have to see how you compare, won’t we?”

For some reason, Q's jabs at him only made James want him even more.

“I promise you,” he smirked as he grabbed Q by the arm, turning him round and pushing him onto the bed, “I’m not like any man you’ve ever been with.”

“I should hope not,” Q replied as James descended upon him, kissing and licking his way ravenously up the boy’s chest, “I would hate to spend the night with a boring old man and not even get paid for it - _ah!_ ” He gasped sharply as James’ hands travelled between his legs, teasing at the cleft of his arse before pushing his legs apart.

“Don’t get cheeky with me. You’re the one who shouldn’t be disappointing me, boy.”

“Get a bloody condom on before I get bored,” Q panted, “Are you going to talk all night, Mr Bond, or are you going to fuck me?”

James was more than happy to comply with the latter, of course.

 

* * *

 

James awoke in a sluggish fog, his head pounding. Maybe the drink he’d had the previous had been much stronger than he had originally thought. He groaned, sitting up, rubbing his temples in an attempt to rid himself of his grogginess.

“Good morning, Mr Bond.”

When he looked up, Q was standing in front of him, fully clothed. In one hand, he held the flash drive, and in the other, James’ gun - which was pointed right at James’ head.

“Very predictable place to hide your valuables, the safebox,” Q observed, amusement in his voice as he cocked the gun, “Not very safe, either...ironically.”

Q wasn’t just a rent boy. Of course. This was all a scheme.

James felt stupid and humiliated as Q triumphantly dangled the flash drive aloft, a sickeningly smug look on his pretty, bespectacled face - which James wanted to punch in very badly at that moment, and he would have, were it not for the gun Q had stolen from him.

“The safebox was locked,” he growled, “Digitally.”  
  
“Not anymore, it isn’t. Very easy to get past those sorts of things.”

“You’re a thieving little whore.”  
  
“And you’re a sad, stupid old man,” Q remarked, “I was disappointed, really. Thought I’d be in for a bit more of a challenge...turns out, all I had to do was offer you sex. Pathetic, isn’t it? And here, I thought you were MI6’s best…” His gaze flickered contemptuously towards James’ crotch. “You didn’t even last that long, you know. Might have been that pill I slipped in your drink last night...or maybe it’s just because of your age.”  
  
“You bitch-” James began furiously, starting forward, but before he could utter another syllable or get near Q, the boy pointed the gun downwards and shot him in the thigh.  
  
He roared in pain, white-hot pain shooting through his entire leg. He nearly fell off the bed as he clutched at the wound, Q watching him coldly.  
  
“Mind yourself, Mr Bond,” Q tutted, “Or I’ll shoot your cock off next.”  
  
“You’re not going to get away with this, boy,” James snarled through gritted teeth, “MI6 will find you. You’ll wish you’d never been born.”

“If you’re the best the Her Majesty’s Secret Service has to offer, then I doubt I’m in any danger.”

“Arrogant little shit.”  
  
“Patronising me won’t get you anywhere. You see, I’ve got the flash drive, and a gun...and you’ve not even got your pants on,” Q laughed, “Well, I’d best be off. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr Bond. Mr Ross is so very grateful for your cooperation.”  
  
James lunged at him, only to fall face-first onto the carpet, his vision swimming. Was it the effects of the pill Q had mentioned, kicking in now? He tried to get up, but his limbs felt like lead.  
  
“Goodbye, Mr Bond,” Q said, kneeling next to him and giving him a mocking kiss on the cheek. “Perhaps I’ll see you again soon.”

James could only watch and let the boy walk right out the door with the flash drive and his gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I know nothing about computer codes/flash drives, really...  
> I don't know if there's such a pill that would take so long to have an effect, either, or if it's even possible to create one?  
> Also, I know prostitution in fics can be problematic. It was not my intention to make light of something that's actually quite a serious issue.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really terrible about updating and responding to prompts/requests, but I have some more time to write now. As usual, if you have any requests, you can leave them in the comments or message me on Tumblr, for those of you who follow me there!

**Prompt: Zombie invasion at MI6.**

* * *

 

Q had been minding his own business, preparing notes and diagrams for a meeting with M when Tanner came into his office, looking like he hadn’t slept in days.

“I’m going down the street to buy a coffee,” he announced as he stepped inside, “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Christ, Tanner,” Q muttered as he looked up from the stack of folders that he was assembling on his desk, “You don’t need a coffee. You need to go home and sleep.”

“If only,” Tanner replied, rubbing his forehead and suppressing a yawn, “God knows I’d love that, but there’s too much to do, I’m afraid.”  
  
"At least take a nap, will you? You’re no use to man or beast in that state.”

“No time for that.”

“I’m serious, Tanner. You look like a zombie.”

“Ha ha,” Tanner responded dryly, “Good one.”

“Bill,” Q snapped sternly, “Go home and sleep, now. I’m ordering you to.”

“Abusing your power now, are you?”

“Don’t make me tranquilise you.”

At that moment, 009 stumbled into the office, looking even ghastlier than Tanner. His face was sickly pale, eyes bloodshot, and he was staring wordlessly at Q with a disturbingly blank expression on his face.

“009?” Q said cautiously, “I didn’t know I was supposed to be expecting you. Can I help?”

009 made no effort to respond, and simply kept staring dumbly back. Tanner gave him an odd look, raising an eyebrow. Q sighed in irritation. Tanner wasn’t the only one who was direly sleep-deprived, it seemed. The whole bloody office could do with a compulsory nap. 009 didn’t even look like he was quite aware of his surroundings.

Finally, Tanner broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“009? Is there anything we can do for you?”

Slowly, 009’s mouth opened, although no words came out, only a laboured, stuttering groan.

“Are...are you quite all right?” Q asked in alarm, “009, I think that perhaps - Jesus fucking Christ!”

A vile, thick liquid had begun to leak from 009’s lips as the broken groan coming from his mouth crescendoed into a guttural, animalistic growl, the sound grating and terrifying. It didn’t sound like any sort of noise that could possibly be emitted by a human, and before Q could even try to wrap his brain around what the hell was wrong with the Double-0 standing in front of him, 009 lunged at him, throwing himself over the desk and reaching for Q with a feral howl.

Q yelped as he was slammed against the wall, 009 grabbing indiscriminately at him. He tried to throw the agent off, but couldn’t fight against his strength.

“009!” Tanner shouted, “What the hell are you doing!? Get off of him!”

009 shrieked like a starved animal, and Q found himself staring straight into his mouth, which was gaping impossibly wide open as the dark liquid poured out and down his chin. He gave a startled cry, struggling wildly in the Double-0’s grasp. 009 gnashed his teeth, going straight for Q’s throat, and Q frantically tried to push him away, hardly aware that he was pleading desperately with this man - who could hardly be called a man anymore - to stop.

Tanner drew his gun, and shot 009 through the head.

The bullet tore straight through the agent’s skull, just barely missing Q as it passed through his cranium and became lodged in the wall. 009 fell away, and Q collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

Tanner was at his side a split second later, checking him for injuries.

“Are you OK?”

“Jesus…” Q whimpered, “You shot him, you fucking shot him…”

Tanner made no comment, face grim as he helped Q to his feet. They stared at the body on the ground. He was hardly recognisable as 009 anymore, what remained of his face grotesquely twisted into monstrous features. Q suddenly felt very sick, and were it not for Tanner to lean against, he was sure that he would have collapsed again.

“Come on,” Tanner said urgently, “We’ve got to get you out of here, we should report this immediately…”

Q let the Chief of Staff steer him out of the room, grateful that at least one of them was able to remain calm and sensible, despite the fact that they were both severely rattled by the incident. They headed towards M’s office at a brisk pace, although Q wasn’t sure what M could do about it. There was a man lying dead in his office...a Double-0, who had attacked him in some sort of animalistic fit, and probably would have killed him if Tanner hadn’t been there.

As they rounded the corner, a group of people became visible on the other side of the corridor. Tanner stopped abruptly, his grip on Q’s arm tightening. Q could see why now - with dread, he realised that the people down the corridor were motionless, staring at them in that lifeless, empty way that 009 had. Neither of them dared to move as one of the men - creatures, more like - took a step towards them, a low moan echoing across the corridor.

Then, with an unholy shriek, the creature broke out into a terrifyingly fast sprint, hurtling straight towards them, its companions following suit.

Tanner swore, and began to dash back down the way they’d come, dragging Q with him.

“What the fuck is happening!?” Q shouted as they skidded into a stairwell, rushing downwards as quickly as they could, “What’s happened to them!?”

“Trust me, I’m wondering the exact same thing,” Tanner answered as they stumbled down the stairs. The creatures were in hot pursuit, and Q could hear their ravenous shrieks echoing throughout the stairwell. They were pouring down the stairs at a frightening speed, and Q wondered just how much longer he and Tanner could keep running. Certainly not for much longer. The creatures pursuing them were fast, faster than Q had ever clocked a Double-0 at, faster than any human ought to be…

Tanner managed to shoot one as they dashed down the stairs, and he hit it in the thigh. It stumbled briefly, but was otherwise unaffected, continuing on in its pursuit as if the bullet had only been a mosquito. Frantically, the Chief of Staff fired again, this time hitting it in the head, and it fell down and didn’t get back up. But one downed creature was of little consequence to the group that was chasing them, and after three more unlucky shots that all missed their marks, there were no more bullets left in Tanner’s gun, and he was forced to toss the now useless weapon aside.

There was a door at the bottom of the stairwell, and Tanner threw it open, shoving Q out into another corridor before following and slamming the door shut. It was a futile action, really, but it would buy them just a few more moments of time. Tanner grabbed Q by the hand and they took off running again towards the end of the corridor. Behind them, Q could hear the sound of a dozen bodies colliding with the stairwell door, and it only took them a few moments to force themselves through, the door flying off its hinges.

They lunged after Q and Tanner, screeching and howling, that sickening black sludge bursting forth from their jaws. Their gaits were long and crooked yet impossibly quick, and they were gaining by the second.

Q and Tanner came to stop in front of a door at the end of the corridor. Q grasped frantically at the knob, turning it, and -

It was locked.

“Open it!” Tanner shouted, “Hurry up!”

“I can’t!” Q cried, “It’s locked!”

Tanner gave the knob a try, affirming that the door was indeed locked. His face became pale as he looked over his shoulder at the mob of screeching creatures coming towards them, and he swore again.

The Chief of Staff threw himself against the door, trying to force it open with his shoulder, but it didn’t budge so much as a centimetre. The horde of things was getting closer, their shrieks becoming more and more frantic and garbled. Q could see their blazing, bloodshot eyes and smell their appalling, sickening stench - blood and rotting flesh and God knew what else. It was utterly putrid and overpowering, nearly enough to make him faint.

“Open, god damn it!” Q screamed, rattling the knob desperately although he knew it was useless, “Please, for the love of fuck!” He knew that he was signing up for a very dangerous job when he had first come to work at MI6, but for God’s sake, he’d never imagined his death to be by vicious flesh-eating...zombies, he supposed.

The creatures were almost upon them now, only a few metres away, close enough for Q to see their ghoulish, twisted faces and wild eyes and murderous jowls. Tanner pushed Q behind himself - a noble, although useless gesture, really, seeing as they’d both be torn to shreds - it’d only spare Q for perhaps a second or two more, at most, if they were lucky. Q squeezed his eyes shut, gripping Tanner’s sleeve tightly, and braced himself to be ripped into pieces -

And then there was a loud bang, followed in quick succession by another, and then another - bangbangbangbang.

The zombie were dropping like flies now, each falling to the ground one by one. Q watched in confusion as the final creature pitched forward, lying motionless on the ground in a puddle of stinking gore. His heart was racing ferociously, much too quickly to comprehend what had just happened…

And then none other than James Bond, Agent 007, came stepping over the gruesome pile of bodies, brandishing his Walther in one hand, a shotgun tucked under the other arm.

“007,” Q breathed in disbelief, and he had never been happier to see the agent before. He wanted to cry with relief at the sight of this man who had just saved them from a messy and undignified death, in all of his bespoke-suited glory. He looked almost god-like for a moment as he approached them like some sort of gallant saviour, but Q quickly blinked the image away.

“You two all right?” the agent asked, nodding to greet Tanner before his gaze settled on Q.

“We’re fine,” Tanner answered, his voice shaking slightly, “009...he was one of them...He attacked Q earlier, we got away, and then we were chased by this lot…”

“There’s more of them all around the building,” 007 informed them briskly, “Safer to stick together. We’d better keep moving. No telling when the next group will find us.”

“The next group?” Q asked weakly, “How many of them are there?”

“A lot,” Bond answered, “Enough to cause the PM to put the place on lockdown. No-one comes in and no-one comes out.”

“What do you mean!?” Q yelped, “So we can’t leave? We’re trapped in here!?”

“It appears so,” Bond replied grimly, “We’ll have to outsmart those things if we want to live. I say the three of us can last for quite some time without being killed.”

“That’s very comforting,” Q muttered sarcastically, and Bond gave him an amused look. Q could feel himself becoming irritated - now was not the time to be amused, not when MI6 was infested by zombies. Who even knew they had come to be in that state? Normal, decent human beings in the morning, ravenous beasts before tea. To be frank, Q was scared out of his mind.

“Don’t worry,” Bond assured him in that annoying, self-assured manner of his, an arrogant, lazy grin on his face. He sure was acting nonchalant, for one who was in the midst of a zombie siege. “I’ll protect you, Quartermaster.”

“Don’t tease me, 007,” Q snapped back petulantly, “Tanner and I were almost devoured by vicious flesh-eating zombies just now, and I nearly had my head bitten off by 009 earlier, so you’ll excuse me if I’ve been sufficiently rattled.”

Bond gave him a concerned look. The stupid smirk had disappeared.

“I wasn’t teasing, Q. I meant what I said.”

Q stared dumbly back at him, blinking.

“...Oh,” he finally managed to say, quite lamely, “I see.”

He, Bond, and Tanner stood there uncomfortably in silence for a few moments, each looking slightly embarrassed - Q for snapping at Bond, Bond for having caused Q to do so, and Tanner for bearing witness to the whole awkward exchange. Finally, Tanner had the good sense to break the silence, clearing his throat half-heartedly.

“We’d best get a move on,” he suggested, “Maybe find M and make sure he’s fine.”

"He’s with Moneypenny,” Bond said, “They’re headed towards one of the weapons storage rooms. We should meet up with them there.”

“For once, you have a logical plan of action. I was half-expecting you to simply propose we shoot up the entire building,” Q huffed, but Bond made no effort to retort.

He merely reached out to put a hand on Q’s shoulder. On any other day, Q might have slapped his hand away, but given the situation, the gesture felt surprisingly comforting, and, oddly enough, it was quite welcome. He found himself giving Bond a brief smile, and the Double-0 nodded in return. There was no denying that Q felt much safer with 007 around, and although he wouldn't admit it aloud, he was very glad for the man's presence.

And so, without much else needing to be said, the three of them headed cautiously forward to join M and Moneypenny.


End file.
